


The Cure

by YlvaUllsdotter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 18+, Aftercare, BDSM, Bondage, But mostly porn, Collar, Cuffs, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Dean x Reader, Dom/sub, Edging, F/M, Fanfiction, Flogging, NSFW, Orgasm Control, Porn, Reader Insert, SPN - Freeform, Smut, Some Plot, Spanking, Sub!Dean, Supernatural - Freeform, bottom!Dean, dom!reader, just a smidge of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YlvaUllsdotter/pseuds/YlvaUllsdotter
Summary: Dean Winchester is a man who is always in control. Most of the time that’s ok, but occasionally he wants to let go and let someone else be in control of him. That’s when he comes to see you.You live in a small town in Kansas, a couple of hours’ drive from Lebanon. You’ve known Dean Winchester for 15 years, ever since he saved you from a poltergeist that had taken up residence in your house. You had had a casual relationship with him for the same amount of time, ever since you expressed your gratitude by taking care of him after he finished off the ghost. He developed a taste for your special kind of TLC and for 15 years he has visited you a couple of times a month. It’s an arrangement that works out for both of you.





	The Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @dragonchica’s 1000 Hour Write Along Challenge on Tumblr. My prompt was The Cure by Lady Gaga. I used the song title as the title for the fic and also drew inspiration from the lyrics. Mind the tags. I apologize for nothing.

 

“Sonofabitch!”

CRASH!!

I had been told to stay out of the house, but when I heard the distant curse and the unmistakable sounds of something, or someone, breaking, my instincts kicked in and I rushed inside. While I was running through the house, I heard what sounded like chanting and then a godawful shriek that cut off abruptly. Bracing myself for the worst, I pushed open the french doors to my living room.

The room looked like a tornado had come through. Furniture was smashed and strewn everywhere, my collection of novelty plates only a memory, and there was a brand new stain of some sort of green slime covering most of my antique rug as well as parts of what was left of the couch. In the middle of the room, bent over with his hands on his knees, stood a panting Dean Winchester, he too partially covered in the green slime. He heard me enter and looked up, flashing me a grin that could only be described as proud.

“Don’t worry, I killed it.”

That shook me out of my shock at seeing the devastation and I noticed that he was injured. At a glance, there were bruises and some shallow cuts on his face and hands, a larger gash bleeding on his thigh, and as he stood up I noticed he held his left arm cradled close to his body in a way that suggested it was dislocated.

“Kitchen.”

In an instant, I was in full nurse mode. Ignoring the mess, I turned on my heel and strode through the house, stopping in the bathroom to grab my first aid kit. There was no doubt in my mind that he would do anything but follow me. When I entered the kitchen, he was right behind me. I pointed at a chair and he shuffled over and sat down. The next hour was spent cleaning, bandaging and sewing up all his various wounds. I saved the shoulder for last, expertly twisting his arm to pop the joint back into place while he bit his bottom lip and clenched his eyes shut against the pain.

When all was tended to, we finished off a bottle of Jack Daniels together and he spent the night. In fact, he ended up spending the next two nights.

* * *

 

Pulling into my driveway I immediately spotted the sleek black Chevy Impala parked in the street in front of my house, and it brought a smile to my face. It had been one hell of a week and I had been looking forward to a quiet weekend with nothing but Netflix and JD to keep me company, but seeing that car perked me right up.

I could see Dean slumped in the front seat, probably sleeping while waiting for me to get home from work. As I walked up from behind, I could see the window was rolled down and a wicked smile quirked my lips up. Leaning in, I put my lips almost up against his ear.

“DEAN WINCHESTER!!”

“SONOFABITCH!”

He started awake with a curse while I leaned against the car laughing so hard my stomach hurt.

“Not cool, Y/N!”

“Hey, not my fault you’re sleeping on the job. C’mon, I’ve got pizza in the car and it’s getting cold.”

I grabbed my things from the car, juggling my giant purse, a bag of weekend supplies I had picked up at the store on my way home, and two cartons of pizza. Dean met me at the door, grabbing the keys from my pocket and letting us both in. I could hear him put the keys in their usual place in a glass bowl by the door, then shuffling as he took his boots and jacket off. By the time he came into the kitchen, I had put the snacks away and was on my way back to the entrance to divest myself of my own shoes and coat. I stopped to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Grab some plates and glasses, will you? And set up in the living room, I need to relax.”

When I entered the living room, after having detoured into the bedroom to change into comfy sweats and a tank top, I found Dean kneeling by the couch, pizza, plates and even knives and forks, were neatly placed on the living room table next to two tumblers and my half-full bottle of Jack Daniels. He was still wearing his jeans and a t-shirt and nothing else. I carded my fingers through his hair as I sat down, pulling my feet up under me.

“You know me so well by now, Dean.”

He let out a deep sigh of contentment and leaned into my touch, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted. I let my hand linger, scratching his scalp lightly.

“Tough couple of weeks?”

He just nodded. We never spoke about either of our lives, no more than necessary at least. I had my life with work and friends, and he had his. We were all too aware that we lived in different worlds. A couple of times a month though, Dean would come by, and for a night or two, we could live in our own world.

There had been times when he had been gone longer. Twice he had been gone for a year, once for about six months, but so far he had always returned. I had no idea where he had been or why he had been gone for so long, and I never asked. It was part of our arrangement. He always had the option to tell, although he never did.

“How long are you staying?” I asked him.

“I gotta get back by Monday.” He sighed.

That would give us one whole day and night even if we took the evening to just relax. I slid my hand down to rest on his cheek, the slight scruff scratchy against my palm as I turned his face toward me. I kissed him, just a soft meeting of lips, almost chaste.

“C’mere.” I inclined my head toward the couch and he got up to sit next to me. I snuggled in close and he put his arm around me. It was all very domestic as we watched a movie and shared a pizza.

By the time the movie was over, Dean had fallen asleep, his head leaned against the back of the couch, soft snores coming from his slightly parted lips. I smiled and extricated myself from his embrace, gently getting him into a more horizontal position and pulling a blanket over him. The sight of him made me smile. Taking care not to wake him, I put away the remains of our evening and then made my way to the bedroom upstairs. There would be time for other things in the morning.

I woke up to the smell of bacon and pancakes and I smiled as I stretched and yawned. Dean’s cooking alone was worth waking up at the ass crack of dawn, but I had so much more to look forward to. That thought had me instantly motivated and moments later I was in the shower. Half an hour later I made my way to the kitchen, fully dressed and ready to enjoy my time with Dean Winchester.

The kitchen table was set for two, already loaded down with plates of bacon, pancakes, sausage links, scrambled eggs, and all the breakfast things. Dean was just finishing washing up the pans he had used for cooking when I entered. His eyes took me in and I could see his breath hitch when he noticed what I had in my hand. He paused, his hands stilling in the middle of scrubbing and his eyes sought mine.

Smiling softly at him, I gave no indication that I was even aware of what was in my hand. I casually placed it at the end of the table before I took my seat. He stared at it for a moment more before he turned back to what he was doing, finishing up quickly.

He was hesitant when he approached the table, until I pushed the chair out with my foot, silently giving him permission to sit and eat. All through breakfast, he was distracted, his eyes repeatedly straying to the item at the other end of the table. Each time he looked, he suddenly had trouble swallowing.

I ate in silence, studying Dean, my extensive knowledge of his body language letting me know what he was thinking even without him saying a word. When we were both done, he collected our plates and went to wash up, while I put away the rest, our movements coordinated as if we did this every morning. As he stood at the sink, his back to me, I could tell by the tension in his back and shoulders, and the slow movements, that he was deep in thought. Even so, he was acutely aware of when I picked up the item from the table and left the kitchen.

Making my way to the living room, I sat down on the couch, placing the item in plain sight on the coffee table. While I waited for Dean, I took the time to study it myself. I already knew what Dean’s response would be, even though he might still think he was undecided.

A few minutes later, I heard the water turn off in the kitchen, then shuffling as he removed his clothes, and footsteps as he made his way to the living room. He stopped in the doorway, his eyes glued to the item on the table, and his face was an open book to me. For several moments he stood there, and I could follow the debate in his head by the expressions on his face. Finally, he pulled his gaze away from it and came in, very deliberately going down on his knees a foot away from me, keeping his eyes on the floor.

I picked it up and held it out to him, and immediately his eyes darted up to it before dropping back to the floor between us.

“Dean.” I waited until he looked up at me. I could see all the emotions in his eyes. “I need you to be the one to put it on. And I won’t be mad if you choose not to. Nothing has to change if you don’t want it to. Understand?”

Dean nodded, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. Like a moth to a flame, his eyes were drawn to it again; the [brown leather collar](https://i.imgur.com/HMJSjsK.jpg) hanging loosely from my fingers, waiting for him to take it.

Such a small thing, just a strip of leather really. And yet, such a giant step. He cleared his throat, then looked up at me again, his eyes asking permission and I nodded.

“What…” He cleared his throat again. “What would it mean? Exactly?” His voice had just the slightest hint of a tremble.

“It means you’re mine, Dean, nothing more, nothing less. When you leave, you’ll take it off and I’ll keep it in a box in the hallway closet. When you come back, you’ll put it back on and you’ll wear it for as long as you’re with me. It’ll be a symbol, just for the two of us. A symbol that you belong to me.” I tried my best to explain, knowing this was unknown territory for Dean.

He swallowed again, and I waited, the collar dangling from my fingers. He blinked, then reached out to take it, hesitating for the briefest moment before his fingers touched the leather. For a full minute, he ran his fingers over the leather, studying it. Finally, he closed his eyes as he buckled it on, going on touch alone. When he was done, he let his hands drop back to rest on his thighs, his eyes seeking mine.

I smiled at him, putting all of my emotions - happiness, warmth, caring - into it as I raised my hand to brush my fingers over the collar now encircling his throat.

“Say it.”

“I’m yours. Always.” His voice was steady, certain.

The breath I let out was almost ragged, my head a swirl of emotions. I slipped two fingers under the leather and tugged, just enough to coax him to shuffle forward, and I crashed my lips to his in a hard kiss, claiming him once again. He relaxed under my touch, completely pliant and soft, mine to do with as I pleased. That was all it took to firmly snap me into my headspace.

My free hand fisted in his hair, pulling his head back and exposing his throat to me. I bit down over his pulse point, hard enough to pull a grunt from him, then soothed the bite with my tongue before locking my lips over the same spot and sucking a mark into his skin, a growl deep in my throat.

When I let him go, I had to steady him as he staggered slightly, his eyes half-closed. When I unclipped the chain I had been wearing as a belt, he blinked, then quickly realized what it actually was when I fastened it to the ring on his collar. I stood up and began to make my way toward the door in the kitchen, the door that was almost always closed and locked. The door to the basement.

Dean’s breath sped up as the leash became taut, momentarily uncertain. But when he felt the slight tug on the collar around his neck, he fell to his hands and knees and shuffled after me.

I grabbed the key from where it hung next to the door, unlocking it. The light came on as I flipped the switch just inside the door, illuminating the concrete steps. I took care to go slowly, giving Dean time to adjust to a whole new way of descending the stairs. He managed beautifully, and even that small thing caused a warmth of pride to spread through my chest.

Stopping at the wooden cross, I tugged gently on the leash, getting Dean to stand up. He knew what I wanted without my having to say it, turning and leaning up against the cross, his arms and legs already in position to be cuffed. I fastened the cuffs and then leaned in and caressed him, my hand going from the back of his neck all the way down to his ass, coming to rest as I leaned in and brushed my lips against his.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Dean.” My breath ghosted across his skin and I felt a shiver go through him. “Will you give me what I want, Dean? What you need?” I went on, and he nodded. “Say it. You know I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes. I will give you everything, Y/N.” His voice was low and steady, telling me he was already in his own headspace. I ran a finger under the collar, tugging slightly, just enough to remind him it was there.

“Such a good boy.” I purred in his ear before moving away.

From the dresser, I grabbed a pair of black leather gloves, pulling them on while admiring Dean’s body, the way his muscles moved under his freckled skin as he tensed and relaxed. Giving the gloves one last tug, I stepped up to him again, my leather-clad hand finding his hip, caressing his ass from his hip bone to the top of his thigh. My other hand joined in and soon he was arching his back, pressing into my touch, a soft moan slipping from his lips.

The next time my right hand reached his hip, I lifted it and brought it down with some force, the slap almost echoing off the walls of the basement. The grunt he let out was more from surprise than pain, but it fueled me. Rubbing over the same spot, soothing it, I landed another slap with my left hand. This time he was ready and only a hiss escaped as he drew in a breath through clenched teeth.

I found a rhythm, landing a slap, then soothing it with my hand, alternating between left and right. Each hiss and grunt he let out, every twitch of his muscles, was more fuel on the fire that burned inside me. The fire that was caused by my feelings for this man, this strong man who was so used to be in control, but was always ready to hand that control over to me, to let me do whatever I wanted to him, trusting me with his life. The rush was indescribable. It was the best feeling in the world. To me, it was better than sex.

When I stopped, my hands felt warm. Even with the leather padding, each slap stung my palm. I moved in close, pressing my body against his, placing soft kisses on his neck and along his shoulders. His muscles were trembling from the strain and when I released him from the cuffs he would have fallen had I not been holding him up with my body. I wrapped my arms around him from behind, holding him until he was able to stand on his own, even though he was still wobbly. Turning him around, I slid my gloved hands up his chest to cup his face, pulling him in for a kiss that was more a mingling of breaths than anything. When his hands landed on my hips, I let him, and we took a moment to just breathe each other in.

When I moved, he followed, as if he was tethered to me. I led him to the wooden horse, where he draped himself over it without any prompting, making me smile and that feeling of warmth kept spreading. I crouched in front of him, cradling his face so I could look in his eyes.

“If I leave the cuffs off, will you keep still for me?”

“I...yes...but…” He hesitated and I squeezed his face between my hands.

“Speak.”

“I...I like the cuffs. I like…” He paused again, blushing.

“Tell me, Dean.”

“I like to feel helpless. I need to feel that you’re in control.”

I beamed a smile at him. “I like to see you helpless and in my control too. But to me, it’s even better if you’re not cuffed, and stay still anyway. We can work on that though.” I kissed his forehead and let go of his face to fasten the restraints on his wrists and ankles.

While I moved away to get my flogger, he tugged on the cuffs, not so much to test them, more to feel them snug against his limbs. Coming back to him, I stroked my free hand over his back, carding it into his hair.

“So beautiful, Dean. All mine.”

He gave a deep contented sigh in response that made me feel like I was walking on air. I let the tails of the flogger trail over his back and sides, watching him flinch at first as they tickled him, then relax into the feeling. In a single motion, I took half a step back, drew the flogger back and let it land on his shoulder. The “Ah!” that rushed out of his mouth was like an explosion, and it triggered me into motion.

I lost track of time as I let the flogger dance over his back, ass, and thighs. The marks painted patterns on the canvas of his skin, and each and every sound he made, made the fire inside me burn brighter. The sight of him, bound and helpless, writhing under my lash, it was absolutely delicious and I could never get enough.

When I finally stopped, it was because my arm got tired. I tugged my gloves off and stroked his flushed skin with my bare hands, tracing the marks left by the flogger, soothing the sting. My own hands were trembling as I released him from the cuffs, pulling him to me. For a while we sat in a heap on the floor, his body completely limp while I caressed him, placing soft kisses on his lips, his cheeks, his forehead, telling him what a good boy he was, so good for me, all mine.

When his breath had calmed from ragged gasps to a more steady rhythm, I let my lips linger on his, my movements prompting him to respond. For a minute we just enjoyed the feeling of each other. I slipped two fingers under his collar again, tugging just enough to remind him of its presence, and a low moan escaped him at the feeling.

“You’ve been so good for me, Dean. You’ve more than earned your reward today.” I purred against his lips. Pulling away slightly, I gave him a gentle nudge toward the stairs. “Go on up to the bedroom. I’ll be there in a sec.”

As he walked toward the stairs I could tell he was still a little wobbly. I grabbed a small container of lotion from the dresser and followed him. When I entered the bedroom, he was standing by the bed looking uncertain. With soft touches I directed him to stand at the foot of the bed, his hands on one of the bedposts to steady himself while I massaged the lotion into his skin, soothing the sting. As I worked the lotion in, he slowly leaned more and more toward the bedpost until it was the only thing holding him up. His breathing had sped up again in reaction to my touch, and when I squeezed and teased his butt cheeks, he arched his back, pressing into my touch.

Sliding one hand up to rest between his shoulder blades, I directed him to bend over until he was resting his hands on the bed. I kept pushing him down until he was bent over at the waist, forearms resting on the bed, his head on his arms. With my foot, I prodded his legs until he spread them wide enough to suit me. Then I went back to teasing his ass, my hands caressing his skin, still warm from the earlier treatment. Occasionally I would slip a finger along his crack, teasing at his asshole, rubbing soft circles around it until the moans were dripping from his lips like a prayer. When I slid two fingers over his prostate from the outside, he bucked his hips, a strangled curse escaping him.

He made a noise that was almost a whimper when I stepped away from him, his head coming up to watch me as I entered his field of vision, pulling the covers off the bed and leaving them in a pile on the floor. I patted the bed with one hand, the other beckoning him to come to me. Instead of going around to the side, he simply slid onto the bed from where he was, approaching me on elbows and knees.

“Lie down, baby.” I prompted him, and he rolled over onto his back. As he was settling, I moved his arms up and pressed them to the pillow above his head. “Can you stay still for me, Dean?”

He swallowed hard and nodded, his eyes on mine, the green in them almost completely swallowed up by his dilated pupils. Leaving his hands where I wanted them, I caressed his arms, moving down along his shoulders, and over his torso. My hands came to rest on his ribs, my thumbs pointing to his nipples as I leaned in and flicked one of them with the tip of my tongue. His eyes closed and he pressed his head back against the pillow, lips slightly parted around ragged breaths. I amused myself there for a while, drawing sounds from him by using my lips and tongue and teeth on his nipples, alternating for symmetry. When I finally moved on, he was a writhing mess beneath me, panting hard while his hips kept trying to buck against me, seeking any little friction he could get.

I placed open-mouthed kisses along his abdomen, not as toned as it used to be, but I loved it just the way it was. His muscles tensed as I moved closer to his twitching cock, and the frustrated groan he let out when I sat up instead was delicious. Scratching my fingernails lightly along his inner thighs, I watched him, noticing all the little details. His flushed skin, the way he pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth, his hands gripping the pillow, the way his muscles trembled with tension. Above all, the way the leather collar looked on him, the chain leash now pooled next to him and mostly hidden, but I knew it was there. It was gorgeous. He was gorgeous.

Moving one hand, I slid a single fingernail along the underside of his cock, drawing a string of curses from his lips. Reaching the tip, I wrapped my fingers around him and started a slow stroke, wanting to feel every inch of him in my hand. When he bucked his hips up, wanting desperately to thrust into my hand, I scooted over to straddle his legs, effectively restraining him while I continued at my own slow pace.

“Y/N...God...Please…” He was begging, and it was absolutely sinful. This was my fuel. This was what I lived for, the sounds Dean made when I had him in my power.

“Not yet, Dean. I know you can hold back a little longer. You wanna be good for me, don’t you, Dean?”

“Oh god...yes...ye-fuck…” His eyes glazed over as my free hand moved to cup his balls, rolling them in my fingers, while continuing to stroke him at an excruciatingly slow pace.

I sped up my strokes, just enough to give him that extra bit of friction and he tried desperately to thrust to meet my strokes. I felt his balls tighten in my hand just before he whimpered.

“I ca...I can’t...Y/N please…”

Just as he was about to come, I moved my hands away, drawing a loud groan of frustration from Dean. He was a panting sweating mess under me and absolutely beautiful.

“I said, not yet, Dean.” I purred at him when his eyes found me, although it was uncertain if he could even understand me at this point.

When his breathing slowed a little, I again wrapped one hand around his shaft while the other slipped down to cup his balls. I started stroking again, to the music of Dean’s breaths speeding up again. One finger quested for entrance at his sphincter, slipping in about halfway to let me massage his prostate from both the outside and the inside at the same time. The sound he made was pornographic and I increased the speed of my strokes, twisting my hand every time around the tip of his leaking cock.

With every breath, he was cursing or begging, and while I would have loved to keep him on edge and desperate all night, he had deserved a reward earlier. When he started sobbing and whimpering, I gave in.

“God...Please...Y/N...I can’t...I need…”

“Yes, Dean. Come for me.”

With an almost anguished cry, he bucked under me, over and over, shooting his load all over himself. I stroked him through it, slowing down when I felt him start to soften in my hand. I leaned over and used a sheet to wipe my hands, and his torso, before sliding up to lie next to him, our bodies pressed together, my hands now gently stroking his face and shoulders and arms, bringing him down.

Still a little out of breath, he turned toward me and blinked.

“Thank you.” His voice was gravelly from the sounds he had been making before, but his facial expression, and the look in his eyes, was soft, open, vulnerable, and I would never be able to fully express to him how much that meant to me.

“Always, Dean. I’ve got you, you should know that by now.” My own voice was soft, barely above a whisper. I caressed his face, tracing my fingertips along his cheekbone, down over his jaw, coming to rest on his lips. Closing the small distance between us, I kissed him softly, just a peck really. As I pulled away, my lips quirked up into a smirk.

“I’m not done with you yet.”


End file.
